Till the Very Last Note
by nithila
Summary: Echizen Ryoma has been spying on Fuji's piano practices everyday. At last, Fuji decides to just let him come into the music room whenever he wants. One thing leads to another. Secrets are discovered, decisions are made. "You're stupid and you have issues, and you love making them worse."


**This is set in the same world as One Note After Another, but has nothing to do with it. The story lines are entirely different and unrelated. This is also the longest one shot I've ever written. I might edit it sometime, since I'm not entirely satsified with it. But for now, tada.**

**I know I've been missing recently, and that I haven't updated a lot of my stories in ages, but I assure you I'm working on it. ISC is no joke. It's crazy. I'm having issues balancing my time. It doesn't help that everyone is insane.  
**

**I hope you like the story.**

* * *

The piece he was playing was fast. Fuji's fingers flew across the keys, creating something sinister, dark, and foreboding. He no longer needed to look to figure out where the keys were - those days were long gone - so he closed his eyes, instead concentrating on the dark, shadowy images that formed behind his eyelids in time to the music.

He was in one of the extra music rooms, usually used for dumping in extra equipment. The piano here was old, very old, so nearly all of the students chose the other newer pianos for their practices. But Fuji had been playing it since kindergarten and was emotionally attached to it, so even after it had been moved into an extra room, he still used it. Also, playing a piano that no one else wanted to use meant that he could practice whenever he wanted, for however long he wanted.

A fact that Fuji was more than happy to take advantage of.

At last, the music slowed down. The piece became quieter, softer, more hopeful. And then slowly, slowly, it eased to a stop.

He exhaled loudly and let his shoulders drop, rubbing his eyelids tiredly. He needed to rest.

A movement outside the door caught his eye, and he turned sharply. A single golden eye, almost entirely hidden by a mop of greenish black air peeked through the door. Their eyes locked for a second, and then the door slammed shut quickly. Fuji could hear footsteps hastily retreating down the stairs outside.

Fuji ignored all facial muscle dignity and scowled outright. Whoever that boy was, he'd been watching Fuji's practices for quite a few days. He'd tried to follow him a few times after he ran away, but he'd never been able to catch him. The boy was surprisingly quick, and the moment he got down the stairs, he'd be lost in a sea of general department students.

That was all Fuji knew of him for now. Eye colour, hair colour, skin tone, and that he wasn't in the music department. It might've been enough information to find him if he tried, but Fuji didn't think that finding him was important enough to lower his ego and actually ask the gen-ed students for help.

No, he'd wait. He'd catch him himself.

* * *

"Were you spying on that weird piano guy again today?" Kirihara asked, chomping on his burger noisily.

Ryoma scowled. "I wasn't _spying. _I just happened to hear him practicing and decided to look inside a bit."

Kirihara gave him a strange look, still chomping away to glory. "...That's spying. It's amazing he hasn't caught you yet."

"He always closes his eyes when he plays."

"Weird guy. I don't even get why you like his music. I mean, sure, he plays well, but it's nothing too cool."

Ryoma deadpanned. "You only like rock music."

"...Good point," Kirihara said, pausing his chomping briefly. "But hey, you can't blame me for being normal."

Ryoma sighed. It was true, the majority of the general department didn't care for classical music. That was one of the main reasons for the hostility between the two departments. Combined with the fact that everyone had egos the size of buffalos.

Elephants, actually.

Ryoma had grown up listening to classical music though, since he hadn't really had a choice. His brother had been as piano-crazy as 'the weird piano guy' was, and had initially only played classical pieces.

"The music students must look at you pretty weirdly for daring to enter their building," Kirihara observed.

Ryoma shrugged. "Not really. He plays in a room just above the stairs that lead to the department, so the corridor's pretty deserted."

"I see. What's his name?"

"No clue."

"You've been spying on him for two weeks, and you don't even know his name."

"Yes?"

"Well, you're you."

Ryoma took that as a compliment, and the two continued to devour their food.

* * *

The next day, Fuji was prepared. He dug out an old CD player from one of the dusty boxes in the room, put in one of his own CDs, and set it to play Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu. He then left the CD player on top of the piano and leaned against the wall next to the door.

He waited.

Nothing happened.

Minutes passed. Five, seven, ten. Still nothing happened. Fuji glared at the door in irritation. He was wasting his practice time for this.

Finally, he heard movement outside the door. Without further delay, he pulled it open –

-and his spy went crashing towards the floor. Clearly, he'd been leaning on the door that Fuji had so generously opened for him.

The younger boy scowled up at him and pushed himself into a sitting position. He looked at Fuji, the CD player, and then back at Fuji again. "I knew the music sounded weird," he told him. "There's no way you could've played so well."

Fuji's eyebrow twitched.

Judging by the colour of his tie, the other boy was only a first year. But he looked more like a middle schooler. He was short and thin – not very muscular, and was glaring at him with abnormal determination.

Their staring match continued for a while, but the boy was not deterred. Eventually, Fuji decided to distract him. "How long have you been coming here?"

The boy shrugged, his glare fading away. "Two weeks, at the most."

Two weeks? He'd only noticed a couple of days ago...

"You might've seen me if you'd opened your eyes," the boy drawled. He reminded Fuji of a horrible combination of Atobe and Tezuka. He opened his eyes and gave him his _own _death glare, shutting him up instantly.

"What made you come to the music department, anyway? It's rare for you people to enter the building."

"It's still a part of the same school."

"In theory only."

The boy rolled his eyes. "I was walking around when I heard music from above the stairs, so I followed it, and ended up here."

"And...?"

The boy's scowl deepened. "And the music was so pathetic that I kept coming back to see if the musician ever improved. Pity, he never did."

* * *

Kirihara choked on his water. "You actually said that?"

Ryoma shrugged. "He was getting on my nerves."

"Seriously, Ryoma, he's a third year music student. Insulted by a first year gen-ed student. Imagine how grumpy he'll be."

Ryoma considered it. "He did seem pretty irritated..."

"Oh, you don't say..."

"...but it's not that big of a deal. _Someone _should teach the music students that they aren't on top of the world."

"But what'll you do if he sends out evil minions with potato guns to throw lawn mowers at you?"

Ryoma had long since learnt the art of ignoring-Kirihara's-literal-meanings-and-instead-understanding-what-he-actually-meant-to-say. An art that few people were capable of. "I doubt he has that much power."

* * *

The next day, Ryoma headed over to the music room again. Warning bells were ringing in his head, but he stubbornly ignored them.

And he paid for it dearly, when a hand reached out of the room, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind him.

He glared up at his senior darkly. Up, because unfortunately, Fuji was taller than him.

(Just like everyone else.)

"What do you _want?" _he snapped.

The (taller) boy raised an eyebrow. His eyes were closed, and that irritated him. It reminded him too much of his brother when _he _was trying to get on his nerves. "That's exactly what I wanted to ask you," he said smoothly. "Word for word. Though my facial expression may have been more polite."

Ryoma had been glaring too much recently. It probably wasn't healthy. It was probably even less healthy for the people around him.

"Oh, yes, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Fuji Syusuke, third year, specializing in the piano. And, if I may add, your face is going to get stuck like that one day."

He very much hoped so. "Echizen Ryoma, first year. I, uh, don't specialize?"

Fuji smiled. "Now, if I may ask, why are you so intent on spying on my practices?"

"I told you, I was just passing by –"

"-and decided that I played pathetically. Forgive me if I don't believe that. I _know _I play well."

There was an awkward pause as Ryoma realized that he didn't know what to say.

Fuji sighed. "Is it really that difficult to admit that you like listening to me play? I tell people I like their performances on a daily basis. Even when I don't."

Ryoma shrugged noncommittally. He'd never been good with compliments. Especially with his brother. And, as had recently come to light, people who resembled his brother.

Fuji sighed again. "Have it your way, then. But the next time you come here, don't stand outside. You're always free to come in."

Ryoma brightened up considerably. "That won't bother you?"

"Not really. It never disturbs me when people outright watch me play. It _does_ bother me when they're being sneaky and _spying."_

Ryoma ignored the jibe. "But I'm a gen-ed student," he said, a bit confused. "You're supposed to hate me."

"No one said I didn't. You learn to work with people you don't like. As it is, if I don't let you in, you're going to spy on me anyway. This is the easier way out."

He assumed that to be the end of the conversation, and headed towards the piano, opening the lid, and sitting down to play.

* * *

"Pity," Kirihara said mournfully. "I liked the potato gun idea better."

Ryoma rolled his eyes.

"I can't believe he let you watch him though. He sounds pretty strange to me. To let a spy spy on him voluntarily..." Kirihara shook his head.

Ryoma face palmed.

"Ah, well. I guess you don't have to worry about random music students seeing you."

"Yeah."

"But he still seems really strange."

Ryoma glanced at his friend, amused. "How many more times are you going to say that?"

Kirihara shrugged. "Well, it's true."

"...I guess so."

"Does he play as well as your brother?"

Ryoma paused for a moment, hesitating. "I don't know, actually. I think they're at the same level. But then, my brother played a larger variety of pieces, but Fuji's playing has more feeling, and sounds a lot kinder. But then a lot of things about them are the same...down to their posture, and how they keep their eyes closed..."

It occurred to him then that he was rambling, and that Kirihara was giving him an intense look that he did not like.

"What?" he said defensively.

Kirihara shrugged, looking away again. "I was just thinking."

There was silence for a moment.

"It's just..." Kirihara stopped again.

There was silence for another moment.

"You're stupid, you know that?" Kirihara said at last. "You're stupid and you have issues, and you love making them worse."

They didn't talk to each other for the rest of the day.

* * *

For the next few days, Ryoma spent every free moment he had abusing his new rights in the extra music room. Fuji practiced there a lot, and it had started becoming rare for him to practice without the younger boy sitting in the corner and watching him. Ryoma was a good listener, and he never disturbed Fuji. Occassionally, he offered advice ("That should be louder, senpai," or "Those notes need more accent," or "This is incredibly boring,") which Fuji either listened to, argued with, or ignored outright.

He asked him one day if he played an instrument. Ryoma informed him that he didn't, and never planned to.

* * *

"Liar, liar, liar," Kirihara drawled, standing in the doorway to Ryoma's room.

Ryoma jumped, accidently breaking the tip of his pencil. He scowled. "Who let you in?"

"Your cousin, obviously." He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. "I really meant what I said about you being stupid and having issues, you know."

"And I really meant what I said about you needing to stop poking your nose into other people's businesses just because you can't stand your own."

Kirihara narrowed his eyes at him. "Stop avoiding the point."

"What the hell _is _your point?"

"I heard your conversation today. You told Fuji you didn't play an instrument."

Ryoma's eyes flared dangerously. "And that's important to you _why?"_

"Because if you're terrified that he's going to find out that your brother was Echizen Ryoga and that you– "

"It isn't like that, okay?" Ryoma hissed, forcefully enough to make Kirihara pause. "I'm not as stupid as I was when I was younger."

Kirihara scoffed. "Yes, which is exactly why you couldn't even tell him that you play the stupid piano. Because if you told him, oh no, he might _find out _and then he'd _know _why you're stalking him and blah blah blah– "

Kirihara was forced to stop when a pencil came flying for his face, nearly nailing him in the eye.

"You know what, I don't care anymore," he spat. "You can deal with your own stupid problems. Or just go to hell."

Before he left, he made sure to throw the pencil back. Ryoma came to school the next day with a bandaid under his eye, and the two didn't talk to each other for a week.

* * *

"_Grow up, sheesh."_

* * *

Fuji chose a long piece that day. It was nearly fifteen minutes long, and wasn't particularly interesting, but it was, unfortunately, a part of his syllabus. He played to the end without a single mistake regardless. Once he was done, he let his shoulders drop and exhaled loudly. "Gods, that was horrible," he said, more to himself than to the gods. "What did you think of it, Echizen?"

There was no reply. The boy was asleep.

He was sitting in his usual spot on the ground in the back corner of the room. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and his head was buried in his arms.

Fuji smiled softly. He wondered if he should wake him up. He was sleeping so peacefully.

He stood up and stretched himself for a moment. Playing the piano for so much time made his body ache. But it felt good. In a strange way.

He decided to let Ryoma sleep for now. It was their last period anyway. He decided to wake him up when he was heading home.

He left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

* * *

When he came back, Ryoma was gone, and his place was instead occupied by a pile of angrily torn up papers.

They seemed to be music sheets, and they weren't Fuji's.

* * *

The next morning, during Fuji's first free period, the music room met its second trespasser. He'd seen him many times before – when Ryoma wasn't with Fuji, he was with him. He'd assumed they were best friends, but he knew nothing else of him.

"Kirihara Akaya," the boy introduced himself, unsmiling. "I don't like you."

Well, he was fine with that. "Fuji Syusuke. I don't even know you."

Kirihara shrugged. "I figured as much. You're a music student, after all. I doubt you ever look up from your piano business than to stuff your face with peaches."

If that was meant to be an insult, it wasn't very admirably phrased. "Well, Kirihara-kun, what is it that you want?"

Kirihara's eyes flashed once, just enough to tell Fuji that whatever came next wasn't to be taken lightly. "I wanted to talk to you about Ryoma."

* * *

Later that day, when Ryoma came into the music room, Fuji was sitting quietly at the piano, simply staring at the keys.

"I spoke to your friend today," he said, as a way of greeting. "The bad-tempered one with seaweed hair."

Ryoma froze.

"He told me that I needed potato guns. And lawn mowers? And that you needed to stuff yourself with carrots."

He relaxed, heart beat slowing to its original rate. "He means you're strange," he said, intelligently, "and telling me to stuff myself with carrots is his equivalent of cursing."

Fuji raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. He used to swear too much in public and in front of little kids, which Yukimura-senpai didn't like, so he banned him from it. So he started resorting to kindergarten-insults." Yukimura was a pretty awesome guy. Not everyone could make Kirihara have to resort to carrots.

"Yukimura-senpai?"

"He's a third year. One of the most famous people in the general department."

"I see. I should know him, then. I'm pretty famous myself."

"Someone's being stuck up."

Fuji smiled. "No, no. It's simply called being confident in, or rather, aware of one's own abilities."

"...That's what being stuck up is, too."

Fuji shrugged. "To each his own," he said, as if that solved anything. "But, anyway. That wasn't what I wanted to talk about." He pulled a (heavily taped) sheet of music out of his folder, holding it out for Ryoma to take. "I found this on the floor when I was leaving yesterday."

Ryoma took the sheet from him, keeping his face emotionless.

"You told me you didn't play an instrument."

"...did I?"

"_Echizen."_

Ryoma scowled. "Okay, I did. I'm sorry. Can I go now?"

Fuji actually dared to look amused. "I'm not the one who keeps you here. It's always been up to you."

Ryoma's scowl deepened.

"And your face really is going to get stuck that way."

He scowled harder.

Fuji shook his head. "Facial expressions aside, was there any particular reason you didn't tell me that you played the piano?"

Ryoma shrugged. "We barely know each other. I'm not really obliged to tell you anything."

"That is, unfortunately, a valid argument. In that case, was there any particular reason you tore up your music sheets?"

"I'm not obliged to tell you that, either."

Fuji considered him for a long moment. "You aren't, yes," he said, voice strangely unreadable. "I just wish you would."

* * *

A week later, it snowed after school. "It's snowing!" Kintarou screamed, running out of the room.

"It's snowing!" Kenya joined him.

"It's _snowing!" _Kikumaru shrieked, before sprinting out behind them.

Ryoma grinned, standing up and hastily stuffing his books into his bag. That accomplished, he slung it over his shoulder and sprinted out after them. He crashed headfirst into Yukimura on the way down the stairs, nearly sending them both to their deaths, but the older boy just smiled and offered to accompany him on his mission to see the snow.

"_Snowball fight!" _Kintarou shrieked, aiming a snowball at his face. He dodged, laughing, before throwing one himself. Kenya joined in the fight, and then Kikumaru, then Momo and Kirihara and Mukahi and Niou and basically every random person who walked by. (Yukimura stayed to the side due to his health – they'd declared him refree.) At the end of it all, they lay in the snow together, panting, utterly drenched, grinning to themselves like lunatics.

He could see the music room window from where he lay. As he glanced up, he realized with a start that Fuji stood at the window, holding it open with one arm and watching them all closely.

"Who's that?" Kintarou asked, following his gaze.

Ryoma shrugged. "Music student. Third year." Spectacularly informative, that was him.

"...I figured as much. But who _is _he?"

"Fuji Syuusuke," Yukimura spoke up, before raising a hand to wave at him. Fuji smiled and waved back, before leaving his position at the window. "He's pretty famous in the music department."

"He's also very pretty," Kintarou said wisely. Ryoma snorted.

"He's weird," Kirihara added darkly.

There was an awkward silence. It was never a good thing when Kirihara spoke darkly about someone.

"Why would you say that, Akaya?" Yukimura asked gently.

Kirihara let out a stream of gibberish involving vegetables, vehicles, and insects, which most people couldn't follow.

"It's best if I don't translate that," Ryoma said, wincing. "It wasn't exactly polite."

There was another awkward silence. "Did he...say something to offend you?" Yukimura asked again, a bit cautious.

Kirihara glanced sideways at Ryoma from where he lay in the snow. They locked eyes for a moment, and his mouth turned down. "Yes. Yes, he did."

* * *

"Stop looking at me like that. I'm not going to tell you what we talked about." Kirihara glared at him before turning back to his food, chewing viciously.

Ryoma scowled. "I couldn't care less," he announced. In reality, he _was _curious, but there was no way he would ever admit that.

"You couldn't care less about what?"

They both jumped. That voice. There was no mistaking that voice. They both shared an alarmed look before turning slowly, slowly, towards the right.

Sure enough, Fuji Syusuke stood to the side, his smile slightly too smug to be called a smile.

Already the whispers were starting around them. _Music student in the gen-ed cafeteria _and _isn't he that pianist _and _what the heck is he doing here he must be crazy. _Fuji was unfazed by it all.

"Echizen," he said brightly. "May I have a word?"

He didn't really have a choice besides following him. Kirihara was too busy being lost in _trespasser in the gen-ed department_ to actually remember to glare.

* * *

"You have guts," Ryoma said once they were out of the room. Fuji chuckled, but didn't stop walking.

"Have I ever done anything to hint otherwise?"

"No, but you never did anything to hint it, either."

"Point taken. But just so you know, walking into a different department isn't really all that dangerous. It's just...taboo."

"Obviously. That's what I mean. You just went against something that's supposed to be _forbidden."_

Fuji glanced over his shoulder curiously. "You're being rather polite today," he said dryly. "Firstly, going into the gen-ed department is not _forbidden. _You're just being unnecessarily dramatic. Secondly, you come into the music department on a daily basis. And thirdly, that's where we're going right now."

Ryoma faltered a little in his footing. He hadn't realized that. Not that it bothered him. "Is there any specific reason you had to kidnap me in the middle of lunch?"

"Of course."

Ryoma waited. "...are you going to tell me?"

"Of course not."

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Fuji walked ahead, his footsteps echoing softly against the walls of the corridor. Ryoma stayed two steps behind him for no specific reason. It just didn't feel right walking next to Fuji. No matter how he thought of it, he was still a virtual stranger. Albeit a virtual stranger who tolerated his presence for large amounts of time, resembled his brother, and, as had come to light two minutes ago, sought out his presence on his own.

A minute later it became clear that they _weren't _going to the extra music room, and Ryoma didn't get nervous. Yes, because Echizen Ryoma simply doesn't get nervous. He was, instead, _slightly confused._

"Fuji-senpai," he said, not-nervously, "Where exactly are we going?"

Fuji smiled to himself. "That's why you were so surprised that I'd left my building," he said. "You're terrified of it yourself, aren't you?"

Ryoma scowled. "Of course not. I'm just curious."

"Ha."

"Did you just ha at me?"

"...Is that a problem?"

"No. Not at all."

"...You're very strange."

"Like you're one to talk." He was well aware of the fact that he was rambling, but really, he was nervous. The whispers had started up again, and unlike how they were for Fuji, these ones weren't polite. Ryoma had always attracted ill-feelings and bad attentions, but never had it been in such a foreign place.

At last, they went up a flight of stairs, and entered a small, dark (and thankfully devoid of people) room. Once he was in, Fuji shut the door behind him and finally turned fully to face him, smiling. "Congratulations," he said. "You just went against something that's supposed to be _forbidden."_

His own words used against him. The _nerve_. "This had better be important," he muttered.

"Don't worry, it is." Fuji moved to the back of the room and forced a window open, letting in some light. The room was dusty, with multiple cupboards and shelves lined against the walls. The shelves were stacked with random objects, including books, broken photo frames, and old students' projects. There was a thick carpet on the floor, making the place look uncharacteristically cozy and safe.

"This," Fuji said, gesturing to the room around him, "is an extra storage room."

"You seem very fond of those."

"I am, actually. No one ever bothers you in these places, and, well." He glanced around again, smiling fondly. "It's nice, isn't it?"

It was true - it was.

Fuji moved over to one of the cupboards and got onto his knees, searching through the large number of unrelated objects. "I was up here yesterday," he said as he searched. "and I found something rather interesting. I thought you might want to see."

Ryoma tilted his head, slightly confused. For real, this time. He wasn't just pretending to be not-nervous.

"Aha!" Fuji pulled a trophy out of the shelf, hefting it in his hands with a triumphant smirk. "I've found it." He dusted it off gently before holding it out towards Ryoma. "I wouldn't have expected it, though," he said softly. "I'm surprised I never made the connection. He was a year older than me, and I was there for each and every one of his performances."

_Echizen Ryoga_

_First place_

_Xxxx Concours- xx12 – xx13_

Ryoma stared at the trophy blankly, feeling strangely numb. It was dated from a year ago. The concours – he remembered the concours. Of course he remembered the concours. Dragging Kirihara along with him to the auditorium every day, sitting in the back row so that no one would see them... Ryoga had barely ever been home on those days. He'd either practice late at school, or run around the city with his new fans. He'd more or less only seen him during the competition, and even then he hadn't been able to speak to him.

("Echizen, are you alright?")

There'd been fights at home over it. '_Are your fans more important than us?' _his mother would ask. '_It's been a month since we all had dinner together as a family.'_

'_We're not a family,' _Ryoga would respond darkly. _'You're not even my real mother.'_

Which naturally shut his mother up, and made his father explode instead. Their argument would escalate, getting louder and sharper with their words increasing in viciousness, and at last Ryoma would leave the room, not willing to listen to it anymore.

Amazingly, the moment he left, the voices would drop.

("Echizen, did something happen? ...Ryoma?")

'_What about your brother?' _Nanjiroh would ask, in a hushed whisper. _'He loves you more than anything. Are you really willing to leave him, too?"_

There would always be a pause after that, as Ryoga hesitated. _'He'll get used to it,' _he'd say at last, his voice only slightly less harsh than it had been moments ago. _'He needs to grow up sometime.'_

He never heard what anyone said after that.

(There were hands on his shoulders now. "Ryoma. Please, look at me.")

It was one of his last memories of his brother. The concours. After they were over, he left. He didn't say goodbye - he did nothing to hint that he was leaving. He wasn't even there one day and gone the next. In the span of the competition, he faded, faded, further and further away, until he'd gone completely out of sight. In spite of the fact that Ryoga had threatened to leave so many times, Ryoma never thought that he'd actually go through with it. He'd always seemed too uncaring, too unmotivated.

His mother had cried. His father had been furious.

But he'd just searched for the trophy.

It made perfect sense now, now that he thought about it. Of course Ryoga would have hidden it somewhere. Ryoga had left the family with nothing to remember him by, save for the grand piano in the living room, which wasn't rightfully his. But his distaste of the trophy _('Tokugawa would have won if they hadn't locked him up in a closet during his turn – this should've been his, not mine')_ had been clear, and Ryoma was sure that he wouldn't have taken it with him.

But of course, he couldn't bear to leave it at home, because that would mean leaving a part of himself behind. So he'd stashed it in an extra storage room at school.

(The hands shook him fervently, but he couldn't decipher Fuji's words anymore. They sounded unnaturally panicked.)

It was ironic, really, how he found it anyway. Had he any clue as to where his brother was, he would've run up to him and waved it in his face, just to say, _'Take that, you good for nothing moron. Take that. I found it, I found it, I found it.'_

* * *

"I'm sorry I spaced out," Ryoma said, half an hour later. He was sitting on a stool in the extra music room, staring at the ground uncomfortably, while Fuji sat in another chair at the far end of the room, eyes closed, with no expression on his face. It was disturbing.

"Freaked out is more like it," he said drily. "Freaked out for a good five minutes."

Ryoma opened his mouth to speak, thought the better of it, and shut it again. When it became clear that Fuji wasn't going to say anything else any time soon, he spoke up. "You can go back to class, you know. You don't have to get in trouble because of me."

Fuji shook his head. "I bunk classes all the time. My teachers have learnt not to ask."

"Oh." It wasn't his fault, then. Maybe.

"And you?"

"What?"

"How often do you bunk classes?"

Ryoma shrugged. "I usually don't. I just sleep in class."

Fuji half smiled, but it disappeared just as quickly. He stared hard at Ryoma, eyes boring holes into his head even when closed. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked at last, voice unreadable.

"...About sleeping in class?"

"_Echizen."_

Ryoma almost smirked. "Sorry. And no, I don't want to talk about it. But, um..." he shifted slightly in his seat. "Can I have the trophy?"

Fuji didn't respond for a long moment. "No," he said at last, slowly and carefully. "You can't have the trophy."

* * *

"_Well, Kirihara-kun, what is it that you want?"_

_Kirihara's eyes flashed once. "I wanted to talk to you about Ryoma."_

_Fuji frowned, leaning back in his chair. Kirihara stayed in the doorway. "Is there a problem with him?"_

"_Yes, there's a problem with him," Kirihara snapped. "He's naturally a problem. I don't think there's anything about him that _isn't _a problem."_

_It didn't sound much like a good-natured best friend insult. Fuji wondered if he two had been fighting. "...okay. And why did you want to talk to me about this?"_

"_Because I'm pretty sure you're making it worse."_

_He was more curious than offended. "I'm sorry?"_

"_You remind him of his brother, okay?" Kirihara spat, glaring holes into his head. Like it was entirely his fault. "He hasn't been spying on you for so long because he finds your music awesome, it's because _you _remind him of his brother. Echizen Ryoga. I'm sure you remember him. Everyone does."_

_Echizen Ryoga. Of course he remembered him. He'd been one of his seniors- a brilliant pianist. _Echizen, _sheesh. How could he not have realized? They had practically the same name._

"_He didn't just quit the school last year," Kirihara continued. "He freaking ran away from home. And this guy's been freakishly obsessed ever since – trying to figure out where he went, trying to play the pieces that he used to play as well as he did..." he trailed off. "He can't, of course. He can't play half as well as his brother, which is why he ends up tearing up his music in the end. It's stupid. His brother is stupider. He left without even saying goodbye."_

_Fuji stared at him, mind reeling. All the pieces were falling into place. Why he'd been spied on, why Ryoma came here so often...the torn up sheets on the floor..._

"_He didn't leave anything for him to remember him by. He didn't even spare the stupid oranges on the stupid dining table."_

_There was a long pause. Kirihara drummed on his elbow impatiently, unsure of what to say next._

_Fuji cleared his throat. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked. Honestly, what could he do about it? It wasn't really something he could fix._

_Kirihara's expression hardened. "He was right, you really are just like him. Uncaring, both of you."_

_Fuji shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, because he really didn't. As strange as it was, he cared for Ryoma. Not everyone could be so annoying and yet endearing at the same time. "I just don't see how I can help."_

_Kirihara frowned. "Just...don't do anything to hurt him," he said. "Or I will hunt you down."_

_Fuji could tell that he meant it._

* * *

"_He didn't leave anything for him to remember him by. He didn't even spare the stupid oranges on the stupid dining table."_

The words echoed in his head as if on replay. There must've been a reason that Echizen Ryoga left nothing behind. Fuji trusted him to know his brother better than he did. If he hadn't left anything behind – not even _oranges - _going so far as to hide such an important trophy in a random storage room at school, he must have had a valid reason for it. If he gave Ryoma the trophy now, he'd be spoiling all of his plans.

But then again, it was possible that he'd been a horrible older brother, and had taken everything just for spite. But then, why would he _hide _the trophy? And oranges? Seriously, oranges? Even the most vindictive, crazy, I-hate-my-family person probably wouldn't resort to oranges.

Okay, maybe they would. But from what he knew of Ryoga, he wasn't that crazy.

"No, you can't have the trophy," Fuji said at last. It was the safest decision. He'd probably feel guilty about it for a while, but he wouldn't regret it in the future.

Ryoma looked like he'd been punched in the face.

"There's a reason someone left it there," Fuji tried, avoiding his hurt gaze. "And I'm not going to ruin that."

"It's my _brother's," _Ryoma said, voice unsteady. "I'm sure he wants it back."

Well, that was assuming his brother was even around, which he wasn't. "Echizen. He _put _the trophy there in the first place. If he wanted it, he would have taken it by now."

Ryoma frowned. "Maybe he never had the time."

"Maybe. But just in case, no. I don't want to be on bad terms with Echizen Ryoga."

Ryoma bit his lip. It was sad, in a way, that he still wouldn't trust Fuji with what was actually going on. But that was the only thing that Fuji could use to his advantage. As long as Ryoma thought of him as a stranger, he'd have no excuse for wanting the trophy.

If he trusted him, then they'd have a different problem altogether.

* * *

"Carrot sticks," Kirihara said, failing at hiding his obvious glee. "How dare he not give you the trophy."

Ryoma scowled. "You suck at pretending to agree with me."

Kirihara shrugged good naturedly. "Can't help it. Agreeing with you is a foreign arena."

"Apparently. But you don't have to be so smug about this. I've decided I don't want it anyway."

Kirihara stopped in his tracks. "...Are you serious? You searched for it for months."

Ryoma shook his head. "If he went to such lengths to keep it away from me, I don't think I want it. I'm sick of running after him when he doesn't care about me at all."

Kirihara frowned. "I wouldn't say he didn't care about you –"

"-And we both know you don't believe that."

Kirihara's frown deepened, but he didn't say anything after that.

* * *

It snowed again the next week. As they had previously, everyone ran outdoors shouting in triumph. Ryoma laughed at them and even joined in the cheers, but he opted to stay indoors. He didn't quite feel like playing around at the moment.

He could see them all jumping around from his place near the window. Yukimura had been declared referee again. Kikumaru was bouncing around his opponents, pummelling them with snow continuously _("Kikumaru Bazooka!"). _Niou was pretending to be Yukimura, calling out fouls when there'd been none and confusing everyone beyond confusion. Kintarou and Kenya were wrestling each other on the ground, conveniently forgetting all the rules of snowball fighting, and Yukimura conveniently ignored _them _as well.

"Your friends are interesting," a voice spoke up from behind him. "Mine aren't half as fun."

Ryoma jumped in his seat, banging his knee against his desk. "Fuji-senpai!"

His senior smiled at him. "Hello!"

Ryoma scowled. "You have too much guts for your own good," he said, only slightly envious. "You're in a gen-ed classroom, for heaven's sake."

"This trespassing business is pretty fun, actually," Fuji said. "Every time I walk into the department, everyone freaks out. I don't even have to do anything."

"Yeah, well, your existence is strange enough for them."

Fuji nodded graciously. "I'll take that as a compliment." He moved over to stand in front of his desk, also facing the window. They watched as Kenya's attempt to strangle Kintarou failed drastically, and Mukahi laughed hysterically from the sidelines.

"You haven't come to the music room for a week," Fuji pointed out, eyes still set on the commotion outside.

"I didn't feel the need to."

Fuji frowned. "I won't end up like your brother did, you know."

Ryoma sighed. Kirihara had never been good at keeping secrets. Strangely, he wasn't as surprised as he thought he would be. Somewhere along the way, he'd figured out what the two must have talked about. "Kirihara told you?" he asked drily.

Fuji ignored the question. "What Ryoga did was stupid. I'd never do something like that to anyone I cared about. I know you only started watching me because I resemble him, and now you've stopped because you can't stand that anymore, but that's not fair to me. I have nothing to do with your brother. You can't treat me based on how you feel about him."

He knew that. Of course he knew that. "That's not why I –"

"That is most definitely why you didn't come to the music room, so don't argue. Do you know how difficult it is to practice without someone sitting in the corner insulting your every move?"

Ryoma cracked a grin. "I bet it was unbearable."

Fuji nodded. "It was. I didn't think I'd ever get so used to being insulted. Apparently random strangers can become essential for normalcy in our lives."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Imagine, how would you live without the Pizza Hut delivery man?"

"That is entirely out of context, but unfortunately accurate." It was also a very Kirihara-like thing to say.

Fuji smiled. "I know." He held out a hand towards Ryoma. "You'll be back tomorrow. Deal?"

Ryoma took the hand. "Mada mada dane."

It had been much too long since he'd last said that.

* * *

_Ryoga,_

_I know you'll never find this letter. It's possibly better that way. I've left it in the very same place you hid your stupid trophy in, so if you ever come back to see if it's still there, you'll find it._

_I spent a lot of time sulking over you. I never could accept the fact that you just didn't care. It was hard. It still is. But as you said, I'll get used to it. If Kaa-san and Oyaji could, so can I. I'll never forgive you for it, though. You don't know how much you made them cry. The least you could've done is spared a moment to say goodbye._

_And the oranges? Seriously?_

_You know, I met someone who I thought was a lot like you. He was one of your juniors, apparently. He plays even better than you did. Thankfully, he isn't like you. I think that's all that matters right now._

_Wherever you are, I bet you're having fun. Maybe someday you'll look back and remember that you had a younger brother once._

_Maybe. You probably won't. But I don't care anymore._

_Good luck,_

_Echizen Ryoma_


End file.
